


Hit The Ground Hard

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon!Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Season/Series 11, blindfold, gagged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For an SPN Kink Meme prompt: So, basically Demon!Dean starts to rape Castiel, but at some point he reverts back to Dean. Dean pulls away immediately and is disgusted with himself. He tried to apologise and comfort Cas, but Cas is scared of him.</p></blockquote>





	Hit The Ground Hard

Dean had never expected it to be this hot. 

He took his time stripping Cas because there was no rush, really – it wasn’t like they were going to be interrupted – and this was his angel’s first time.

Proper first time – the night of needy sex with that bitch reaper didn’t count, not when she was fooling him. Especially not when it probably made Cas think the tying up and rough play came _after_ everybody got off. Well, he wasn’t about to let that screw with Castiel’s understanding of the way these things were supposed to go.

He stole a kiss from Cas then, swallowing down the moan from the angel’s lips – it sounded like his name, stuttered and desperate.

It tasted… He wasn’t really one for hyperbole or the flowery guff Sam probably spouted to make the panties drop, but it actually did taste _divine_.

Kind of burned a little, but hey – he knew what he was getting into.

“You got no idea how you look like this,” he said. “Gotta wonder why I waited. Oh, hell, I know why. Never would have done this before tonight, no matter how much I might have wanted to.”

Any reply Cas might have given was lost when Dean began to nip and lick his way from the angel’s jaw to his neck and then his chest. He left red raw tracks in his wake, and when he finally fastened his lips around a nipple, the angel almost arched him away from his body.

“Nuh-uh,” Dean cautioned with a laugh. “I get it, intense. You’ll thank me later for the warm up.” 

From the shudder that rocked through the angel’s body, Dean figured he might think differently.

But he would get Cas used to this, to being cracked open by him, to Dean tearing down those angelic principles of what was right and what was wrong, in favour of what felt good.

Right now it might only feel good to him, but eventually Cas would come around. Dean knew what to do to claim a body and make it his. No one had ever been left unsatisfied when he finally climbed out of their bed.

He just had a few millennia of inbuilt prudishness to conquer, but he was made to overcome. After what he’d achieved tonight – getting an angel to orgasm would be no problem.

He latched on again, brought his teeth into play, giving it a little graze, a little suck, until he felt the bud grow hot and tender under his tongue.

“Dean,” Cas groaned. “Dean, please.”

The sound of him begging was making him hard. Too hard, too fast – so maybe his opinion of his own abilities was a little inflated. He broke away long enough to take a quick look around and spotted Castiel’s shirt, barely a stretch away.

A moment later he’d torn two long strips out of it. He bunched one up and stuffed it in Castiel’s mouth and then used the second strip to tie it in place.

“I’m usually all for sex talk, Cas,” he soothed as the angel thumped his head back in frustration once Dean let go. “But your voice is just designed to make a guy come early, and I want this to last.”

That said, seeing Cas now gagged in addition to the blindfold tied over his eyes – it wasn’t helping in that respect at all.

He lay next to him for a moment, tracing his finger across the angel’s bare skin while he let himself wind down. No way he was leaving this party early, but to be honest the way Castiel’s chest heaved as he panted beneath his touch? The sheen of sweat forming, glistening in the low light of the dungeon? 

That was just as much of a turn on as hearing those pleas in that rough voice.

Hell, all of Cas was a turn on. Dressed, undressed, walking - or taken down to the floor and those cute little cuffs slapped around his wrists.

Boy, Cas had fought those. But again, Dean blamed April for that, and every other kinky fucker who’d ever got their hands on him. He had zero positive experiences of bondage, Dean supposed, but it wouldn’t matter after this.

A little effort on his part, and Cas would learn to love it.

He’d have time, since Dean was pretty sure he wouldn’t be taking the cuffs off anytime soon.

He rested his hand on Castiel’s thigh, far enough from the goods for it just to be a touch. Then he slid his hand inwards, gliding his fingers between Cas’s legs. When Cas tried to squeeze them together, only managing to trap his hand where he already wanted it to be, he could only laugh.

Like he’d thought, millennia of inbuilt prudishness.

“Come on, Cas,” he wheedled. “Can’t deliver if you don’t open the door. This is like that time I wanted you to try pecan pie and you turned your nose up without even tasting it. How can you decide you won’t like something until you know you won’t like it?”

He pushed on anyway, easing his hand tauntingly higher, loving the way Cas trembled under his touch. Oh, he’d be feeling it now, Dean knew. His body reacting instinctively, and the poor little angel probably didn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m gonna make this a first to remember, Cas,” he promised, and finally decided to just go for it, because while it was kind of fun to watch the protests Cas could only make with his body now and not his words, he’d been patient enough.

He shifted until he could get between Castiel’s legs, found it easy enough to part them and push them open to the side. But as soon as he let go, they started to close again like a set of automatic doors.

Dean hissed, and pushed them back down. “Keep those there,” he warned, and slapped one of Cas’s thighs hard enough to leave a stinging red mark. “Don’t make me find something to shove between them, Cas. Come on, dude.”

Not that it mattered. The doors couldn’t close, not with him kneeling in the middle.

He tugged his jeans out of the pile of clothing on the floor and found the lube he’d snatched up earlier after his conversation with Sam. Now that he thought about it, maybe Sam should have been here for this. His brother seemed to have a problem with listening so Dean had given up on words.

Maybe Sam was awake again, maybe not. But the thought of stopping to go and let Sam out of his room and bring him here, and tie him up in the chair that they’d tied him to….

It’d be like breaking his stride, though, and who knew what super sneaky Cas would get up to while he was gone.

Nope, Sammy didn’t deserve to see this anyway. Maybe next time. He had an idea of taking Cas over the kitchen table, because Sammy kept nagging him about how they ate off that table whenever Sam had caught him looking at porn there.

Like he thought Dean might have jizzed all over the underside.

He grinned at the thought of making Sam clean his gunk off the table _top_ , after he’d watched Dean thoroughly debauch the family angel. But that was for tomorrow, maybe.

Dean let his face turn serious, even though Cas couldn’t see him. He noticed Cas’s lips moving, silently, forming words he couldn’t make out.

“You praying?” he teased. “I don’t think you’ve got a whole lot of friends upstairs these days. And the only angel who can get into this bunker is you. So pray away, if you like. Unless you’re confessing or something. It’s not a sin to enjoy your body, Cas. I know I am.”

He squeezed the cold gel onto his hand, worked it around, and then pushed a finger past Castiel’s resistance, loving the muffled yell of protest that earned him. It got better, Castiel’s voice growing louder and more desperate as Dean slid his finger in and out, crooking it just so, scraping a little.

When he slid a second finger in and scissored them, Cas screamed at him and tried to turn over in some awkward attempt of forcing him out and away.

Dean grabbed his shoulders and shoved them down hard. “You don’t do that,” he snarled. “You keep fighting me, Cas, I’ll have to find a way to strap you down someplace. Then you won’t be able to move at all. Maybe I’ll just leave you like that. Is that you want, huh? To be abandoned? You’ll spend forever restrained and helpless, and poor Sam’ll die of dehydration in his room.”

The fight seemed to leave him at those words, and Dean nodded with satisfaction. Ok. Sammy was something he could use here, hold over Cas to get his co-operation. Just like the self-sacrificing little angel. 

Always willing to bleed for the Winchesters.

Well, Dean was done with foreplay so if there was any bleeding now it was the angel’s own damn fault.

He put his hands on Castiel’s thighs again, gave them one last brutal shove downwards as warning, and then grabbed hold of the angel’s hips.

This… How the hell had he managed to put this off for nearly seven years? Why hadn’t he just shoved this hot little bundle of wings and grace down to the floor that night in the barn and ruined him?

Well, back then he would probably have gotten bitch slapped for trying, and if he was honest – doing it like this, letting his eyes black over and his taint smear itself on the angel’s skin? This was better.

Actually worth that long, hard wait.

“You hate being pitied,” he said, his fingers stroking Castiel’s skin. “So I won’t take it easy on you, Cas. You’re gonna feel this. That’s how I want it.”

He bent forward, rolled his tongue over Castiel’s lips, wondering if Cas was so close to human that he was maybe choking a little on the cloth Dean had shoved in there, probably pushed further down his throat thanks to the length of shirt cleaved against his mouth.

He’d have to watch; he didn’t want to kill him. There was no fun to be had with a dead angel, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t warned Cas – through Sam at least – to leave him be.

This – this was their own damn fault, and Dean pulled back, ready to fuck himself all the way into that virgin ass.

**

It hit him, hard and sudden, the reversal coming between one breath and the next. Like he’d been sick and his fever had broken and he felt both better and worse in that same instant.

Castiel groaned, and shuddered beneath him, and Dean froze as his mind caught up with where he was, what he was doing.

Not like he hadn’t known, but this was a before and after, and he sprang away from Cas like the angel was on fire.

“Fuck,” he started. “Cas, Cas. It’s me, ok? It’s me.”

His hands were shaking no matter how hard he tried to make them stop, but as soon as he reached for the angel, Cas jerked away from his touch with a yell of protest.

“No!” Dean snapped, anger and fear driving sense out of him. If he couldn’t free Cas, then Cas wouldn’t know it was him, not that fucking bastard of a demon. _Which was you, Dean,_ he heard his own voice mocking him. _It was all you_.

Yeah, it had been, but it was _him_ now. It was going to take a lot to convince Cas of that though.

He tore the blindfold away, hard and fast, hating having to do it like that. But Cas would fight him on every touch, everything, while he thought Dean was still a demon.

He leaned forward, hoping the light in the dungeon was bright enough to let Cas see. 

“It’s me, look at my eyes, Cas. Come on, it’s just me now. It worked. The blessed blood, the ritual…it worked. Please, Cas.”

He stayed still after that, keeping his eyes locked on the angel’s face as he hoped to see something there that would show Cas believed him. Angels could see the true face of demons, he knew that – it wasn’t the first time Cas had picked them out before they’d blundered into the middle of them.

But he wasn’t a demon like that – not possessed, just changed. Dean realised he probably looked no different now than he had when he’d overpowered Sam and Cas after the ritual had turned him enough to make the devil trap useless against him.

Maybe all Cas had to go on now was faith and what good was that when he’d spent the past thirty minutes being sexually assaulted by the man now claiming to be cured?

Cas jerked his head frantically at him then, and Dean figured that was as much as he could expect for now.

“Ok, I got you, hold on.” He’d tied the knot on the gag so damn hard that he thought he might have to grab the knife from the dungeon table, but having any kind of blade near Cas might be a really bad idea. He managed to undo it, despite his damn hands still shaking so much it was hard to get them to do anything, and then yanked free the piece of shirt he’d crammed in the angel’s mouth.

“Dean,” Cas managed. He spasmed suddenly, coughing hard and fast, and Dean reached for him on instinct. Damn, he hoped that was the automatic reaction of Castiel’s vessel.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “Cas, fuck, I’m sorry.” It didn’t seem like anywhere near enough – it wasn’t, there was nothing he could say that would cover this – but he had to say something. “Let me get the cuffs, ok?”

The keys…. There were on the table too, and he snagged them and then rolled Cas carefully onto his front.

The angel’s wrists were a bloody, torn mess, and Dean swallowed down the bile that bit at the back of his throat. He unlocked the cuffs and threw them aside, wincing at the shredded skin.

“Cas, I’m gonna go free Sam and then we’ll take care of-“

The edge of Castiel’s sword was at his throat a moment later, the angel moving fast despite his condition. Cas was on his knees, naked and hurt, and _desperate_ \- he had no reason to believe this wasn’t some kind of cruel trick.

“You won’t go near Sam. Not until I know for sure.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender. He tried to stay relaxed. He didn’t doubt for a second that Cas would never hurt him – even when he’d escaped the trap and overcome the two of them, Cas had had the opportunity to gank him but he hadn’t taken it. It was hard to win a fight when you didn’t want to hurt your opponent, and Dean had exploited that to the max.

It’d helped that Sam was unconscious on the floor at that point, and Cas had made another mistake in splitting his attention between the two brothers – trying to protect both of them at the same time, and one of them from the other – and that had given Dean just the opening he’d needed.

Now looking at the bruises on Castiel’s face, where he’d punched the angel until he passed out even as he uttered some damned Enochian spell he’d picked up somewhere, Dean wished Cas had put up a fight. He almost wished Cas didn’t care about him so much, that he’d do the _human_ thing and get a few hard shots in.

But he knew Cas wouldn’t.

The angel stood up stiffly, seemingly unbothered by the fact he was naked. The last thing Dean wanted was to be looking at him like that, but he forced himself to do so. He wanted Cas to look at his eyes, to realise he was back.

Maybe it would take more than that, but it was all he could do right now. Sure, there was holy water, on the table, a blessed knife, a crucifix, things Cas could use to test him.

But Dean could see that Cas wasn’t firing on all cylinders. He was like a hurt animal, skittish and unsure, and Dean knew he had to let Cas decide how this was going to go.

“He’s in his room,” he said, quietly. “Probably awake by now and trying to get out. Do you want me in the chair?”

Cas moved around him, keeping as close to the wall as he could. He passed by his clothes, and there was a brief pulse of light. When it faded the torn bundle on the floor was back on Castiel’s body, whole and looking like Dean had never ripped them off.

The bruising was gone too, and Dean drew in a sharp breath.

“Cas?” He almost couldn’t give voice to it, but he had to know. “Cas, did you get your grace back?”

He knew the answer – if Cas had been fully recharged, the way he was before Metatron had attacked him, then he’d still be in that chair undergoing the last of the ritual to change him back to a human.

But somehow, he’d gotten a power boost from somewhere. Enough to keep him alive, enough to get him back to the bunker, but not enough to win out against a demon with the fucking Mark of Cain tainting its skin. Not backed up by fucking angel magic.

“No,” Cas said. “Not mine.”

He backed up another few steps and then he was in the hall, slamming the door behind him. Dean could see him through the grille, wondered why he was still standing there. Then the pressure in the room intensified, and Dean saw a sigil glow brightly in the wood of the door. 

It didn’t hurt to look at it, which it would have if he was still the demonic version of himself, but he didn’t expect Cas to see that. He had the worst case of tunnel vision right now, was probably barely keeping himself together.

All his focus would be on getting to Sam, and then both of them getting back to Dean.

Dean stood up slowly, his actions as a demon catching up to him. The physical discomfort was nothing compared to the loathing that twisted in his chest. Maybe he should take control of this situation. Take that knife off the table and slit his own damn throat with it.

Of course, that would mean by the time Sam and Cas came back, he’d be black eyed and baying for blood again. No. This - all of this mess was down to him, and he was going to find a way to fix it.

He grabbed his clothes from the floor, grateful he’d at least taken them off rather than ripped them off like he’d done with Cas. The last thing any of them needed was him trying to convince them of his humanity while he stood there with everything on display.

**

It was maybe ten minutes later when he heard them coming back.

Castiel opened the door and came in first, Sam behind him. Dean was grateful that Cas had healed him – even his arm. It was bad enough knowing he’d beat his already injured brother into unconsciousness without seeing the evidence on his face. 

But the damage inside, that Cas couldn’t fix.

“Hey,” he managed. He forced himself to look back at them. There were a lot of easy ways out and he wasn’t taking that one either. “You want to get this thing started?”

He jerked his head towards the table, hoping they’d do it while he was standing there and not handcuffed in the chair. But he’d let them take this where they needed it to go.

He noticed that Cas still had his sword in his hand, and the angel’s eyes never left him. Even when Sam came out from behind him, even when he kept tracking his movements, Dean knew he had the brunt of the angel’s focus.

Like Cas was too scared to take his eyes off of him. Understandable, since he’d assaulted him right here in this room. There, on that floor, touching him in all the bad ways.

He couldn’t see past it then, see a way that Cas would ever be at ease around him again. How could he be?

Sam picked up the bottle of holy water and uncapped it. He looked at Dean, and Dean nodded at him.

Do it, Sammy. Let’s get this over with.

The water splashed against his skin and Sam muttered, “Christo.”

Nothing happened, and Dean sagged a little. Some part of him remembered that recorded exorcism they’d found in this very room – the way the demon had straddled the line for a while, slipping back and forth, like the rope in some otherworldly tug of war between Heaven and Hell.

Maybe he wasn’t all the way there yet, but when he didn’t burn and his head didn’t hurt he figured he was just scared of it happening again.

“Ok,” Sam said. He glanced back at Castiel, meaningfully. The angel hesitated, then there was a low hum and the blade in his hand disappeared.

Dean stood there, raw, feeling turned inside out. They’d saved him and what should have been a cause for celebration was forever tainted by what he’d done. He couldn’t look at them any longer, didn’t deserve to. What was wrong with him that everybody he cared about seemed to pay for it?

Then Sam was there, suddenly, crushing him into a hug, and Dean couldn’t help but hold on. Sam was his foundation, the stable ground beneath his feet and the only thing keeping him upright.

“It’s ok,” his brother said, but Dean shook his head against Sam’s shoulder. 

“No, it isn’t.” He glanced back to the doorway of the room and saw Cas was gone.

**

Despite Sam’s protests, it took him maybe two minutes to pack a bag. Well, pack was maybe not the most accurate of descriptions; mostly, he grabbed a handful of clothes, shoved them into his duffel and then yanked the zipper shut.

“Dean, come on, you’re fine now.”

“Fine? Fine!” Dean rolled up his sleeve and shoved the black markings on his arm virtually under his brother’s nose. “I chased you around the bunker and knocked you cold. I tied Cas up and then I-“ 

Sam blanched and held up his hands. “I get it, I know. So we got hurt. So you blame yourself. And now you’re just going to take off again? Like you did last time. Dammit, Dean, we need you here. You don’t get to just walk away from this.”

He strode past Sam and down the corridor before coming out in the study. Cas wasn’t there either – Dean wasn’t surprised. Now that he was cured – of being a demon anyway – and Sam was no longer at risk, Dean doubted he’d ever see the angel again. Though he hoped Cas would come back once he’d cleared off. Sam would need somebody he could count on, and so would Cas. They’d be just fine without him as long as they stuck together.

“Dean, please,” Sam called after him. He tailed him all the way to the foot of the staircase, and watched him yank open the door. “Please stay. Come on, man. This isn’t helping anybody. The only way we’ll get through this is together.”

Dean didn’t look back – he couldn’t see the pain on Sam’s face, and he would if he turned around, and still leave. He’d hurt them again, and one thing was pretty damn clear to him now. When he’d gone after Sam kicked Gadreel out, he should have stayed gone. 

He'd screwed up again, and proven Crowley right – everybody around him paid for their proximity, and the more important they were to him, the higher the price.

He tugged the door shut behind him, the heavy clank sounding so final, and took the second staircase up to the garage.

**

Dean shoved his duffel in the back seat of the car. He crossed over to the panel on the wall and pressed the button that would open the garage doors.

Nothing happened. Frowning, he jabbed it a few more times, becoming increasingly annoyed. What the fuck – the bunker lay dormant for maybe fifty odd years, got kick-started with nary a hitch and the night he needed to make a quick exit, shit started acting up?

Then he heard the chink of metal behind him and let his shoulders sag. 

“Cas.”

He turned to find the angel standing by the Impala, the car keys in his hand. 

“Dean.”

“You wanna fix whatever you did to the door? And you can give me back my keys while you’re at it.”

He watched Cas put the keys in the pocket of his trench coat, and then glare at him. 

“Really. Ok.” Dean went around him, thought about maybe giving Cas a little extra space, but the angel was here, dammit. Confiscating his keys and trying to trap him in the bunker. He reached into the back seat and grabbed his duffel. 

“Where are you going?” Cas demanded. He turned to follow Dean as he started back towards the stairs.

“No clue,” Dean said. “But apparently I’m walking.”

Castiel caught him up before he could reach the staircase and grabbed his arm. “You’re really going to leave. Over this.”

The way he said it made it sound like they’d had some petty disagreement and he was being the most unreasonable person ever.

“Over this? Cas, I tried to rape you and I pretty much did! So, yes, over this. That’s why I’m going. To put as much damn space between you and Sam and me as I can, before I can do anything else to hurt you. Now will you give me the car keys and open the damned door?”

He tried to tug his arm free but Cas held on grimly. “You didn’t hurt me,” he said. “And I don’t know why you think never seeing you again would make me feel any better. You’re the one who talks so much about family, about looking after them. Sam’s your family, and you’re running out on him.”

Temper flared, fast and sudden, and Dean dropped the duffel to give Cas a shove. It didn’t move him an inch, and Cas then had hold of that arm too. “Dammit, let go!”

“No. I won’t and you are. Letting go of Sam. Of me. You’re no longer a threat to us, Dean.”

“Yeah? Well, this ink on my arm says different. Maybe I’m not a demon any more, but you think it can’t get that bad again? Fuck, Cas, what I did tonight… Man, how can you bear to touch me?”

He tried again, futilely, to pull away but Cas wasn’t for letting go. 

“Are you going to hurt me, Dean?”

Dean stared at him, horrified. “I… No, you know I’m not. But, Cas-“

“No buts,” Cas said, sternly. “You’re not the person who did that. I’ve healed my injuries, and Sam’s. But neither of us is ok. Just as you’re not ok. We each of us need the others to deal with this, Dean, and not just what happened tonight. You said it yourself – it could get that bad again.”

“Which is why you should let me go,” Dean said. He couldn’t meet Castiel’s eyes any more, ended up staring down at his own feet. “I’m too dangerous, I couldn’t take it if I hurt you again.”

“Then don’t, Dean. Don’t give up. Fight it. We’ll help. But you never gave up on Sam when he was without his soul, no matter how hard it became. You never gave up on me when I took the souls from Purgatory, or when we were separated there, or when Naomi had me under her control. How can you expect us to let you isolate yourself now?”

There wasn’t anything he felt able to say, then. Castiel tugged him forward, hugged him tight, and Dean just slumped into him. Damn, this was wrong. He was the one who should be trying to comfort Castiel, not the other way around. He was the one who’d hurt him tonight, whether Cas chose to ignore the fact or not. The demon was him, he was it, and all it would take was an accident, or a lucky hit from a monster on the next hunt and it’d happen again.

But he couldn’t pull away from Cas. He felt safer in the angel’s embrace than he had for as long as he could remember. Maybe he could just stay there, let everything else just slip away.

“We’re your family too,” he said, after a moment. “Gotta keep telling you that, Cas. What’s it gonna take to get it through that thick head of yours?”

He felt Castiel huff out a laugh. “Maybe I enjoy hearing it. Dean…. It wasn’t you, tonight, who did those things. To Sam….to me. But if you need hear that I forgive you, then I do. Unless you try to run from us again. That I won’t forgive.”

Dean nodded against Castiel’s shoulder. “Ok,” he said. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears came anyway, fast and hot, and then he was shaking against his friend. “Ok.”

**Author's Note:**

> For an SPN Kink Meme prompt: So, basically Demon!Dean starts to rape Castiel, but at some point he reverts back to Dean. Dean pulls away immediately and is disgusted with himself. He tried to apologise and comfort Cas, but Cas is scared of him.


End file.
